


three times found

by geode



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, can honestly be read platonic or not, little to no research went into this shh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geode/pseuds/geode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor finds Loki, again and again and again.</p><p>(written early 2014)</p>
            </blockquote>





	three times found

**(1)**

_Giants, take this feast._

Three hours into the celebrations and Odinson the Elder is beginning to forget the purpose of living. The musicians are ruthless with their melodies and tunes, poaching eardrums like dragons' eggs, as are the underfloor coalers with their shovels, relentless in boiling the royalties of the Hall alive. Thor can scarce see the far door but heads straight nonetheless, greeting and smiling and kissing those he passes.

Cool air shocks his face, bringing with it calm. He savours the moment brief, however, and strides down golden path after golden path until his chamber arch shades his head. At first, all he notices are the candelit walls swimming with peaceful light, and the familiar throws in the window seats, and the rumpled heap of old clothing atop the divider. It is only when he falls into comforting step at being in his own land and ventures further, that he spies the figure footing his kingbed. And it is only when a rough, uneven stone shifts under Thor's weight that the figure notices him.

"Brother."

A wave of recognition, swiftly followed by slight relief, then confusion.

"Loki, second born, what brings you to this place, on this night?"

"For similar reasons to your own, high prince: the sweltering heat of festivities, the raucous laughter, the drumming that never ceases..."

Thor nods these reasons as approved. He smiles amiably at his brother, sitting aside him on the woollen blankets.

"Is this your hideout, so, Loki? Do you retreat here whenever the party swells to your distaste?" He receives only a sly grin in answer.

For more than a moment but less than many, they stay there, together, content in the quiet of each others' company.

"Thor," Loki shatters the crystal almost-silence, looking up at the addressed. "What might you view on... the truest form of care? Of love, the young kind?"

Thor cannot help but let warmth spread through his heart, as conversations, let alone worthy ones, are a rarity with the God of Solitude.

"Love, dear brother, should be pounced upon when first the opportunity arises." His laugh is sad. "You recall that mortling girl from Midgard? We confessed love then, but we did not seize it in time. If you do not grab it by the horns, you will end up hollowed like me."

Loki's wide eyes stare at his older, conveying the sympathy he can bear to muster.

For three years they've kept their distances, and now as he places his hand on Thor's shoulder, a twinge of something he'd once known by name flows through the skin of his fingers.

Thor takes his hand, clasps it, and murmurs, "Forgive me, sweet brother. I had not intended to close in so."

**(2)**

Midgard bores. This is an observation most from Asgard have long-held, but few have experienced true. Thor belongs to the few. Loki, too, although his citizenship is debatable in three realms. Thor refuses to call him anything but 'brother', much to the dismay of the Allfather.

"I'm to search for my brother at first light," he'd said, kneeling before the High King, the man who raised him. "His loss is not in stone yet."

And Odin had said nothing.

"You will have your son back. No Asgardian strays by another's choice."

Odin had stood, then. He had stared at his eldest for the longest moment. And he had walked away.

So Thor had entered the ninth sector with a heavy heart and an empty hand. He noted on arrival that his state rather fit with the Migardians'.

He's trudged fifty miles or so, now, although Gods do not trudge. There has been no sign of his beloved. This is his city, he is sure. This is where he will be.

He is not, but Thor sees him everywhere. His hair on a marketowner, his drapes in a window, his eyes on a cat.

He cannot return home yet. Not without something to show for it.

He sits atop a wall, musing and crying in turn. Futile.

As if on cue, the voice comes.

"Thor?"

He looks well, if older.

"Three months." Loki says.

"I know, but would you accept my apology?"

"It's unlikely."

They smile, and it's shy. They've lost sync.

Thor rises. Loki shifts step.

"How is everyone? Have the celebrations ended already?"

"Nobody celebrated your absence, brother."

"I am not 'brother' to you."

"You always will be."

"I never was."

They look at each other, survey, deduce.

"Half of my being fell with you, Loki."

"Half mine stayed on the Bridge."

After a time, Mischief laughs.

"Look at us! We hardly define Gods!"

And then Thunder laughs with him and the darkness isn't so bad.

**(3)**

It's weeks after Loki's imprisonment that his brother discovers where the sentence is being carried. Of course, it's within Royal bounds and reach; even Frigga is kinder than that. He hears the unintended truth from sweet, clumsy Volstagg as he quaffs yet more beer and boar.

He leaves the Warrior as soon as word crosses mouth and crashes along the corridors he has loved his lifelong save today, until he spies the unspyable. A mere crack in a stone wall, only seen in the right light and angle. He wields Mjölnir.

"Odinson," Heimdall calls from the air around him. "You cannot break the Shell. Even you are incapable of that."

"Why didn't they tell me? You knew!"

"I know all."

Thor roars and hammer touches stone.

It splits easily.

"It's only hard to find, not to crack," admits Heimdall, disregarding his earlier lie.

The inside of the Shell is white and bright and blinding. It's small. Not in the least comfortable.

"You should not be here." Loki mutters. He's facing the far wall.

"I had to come."

Thor could almost hear Loki's tiny smile.

"Are you well, brother?"

Loki laughs at that.

"Brother-"

"Why do you call me that still? I am of no relation to you. You should have left me here to die."

"No."

The reaction was immediate and independent.

Nothing was said for a long while.

Loki turns.

Thor pretends to not see the scars.

He pretends not to notice the darker shade of skin above the right cheek.

He pretends not to notice the terror in the eyes.

He smiles. He gets no response.

"I should have brought you something."

"They feed me."

"No they don't."

"No."

It takes another long while for him to break through.

"Thor..." and he's crying. He knows they're watching and yet he cries. 

Thor doesn’t tell him it’s alright, because he is not the liesmith. He only hopes that Loki is telling himself that, and is as convincing as he used to be.


End file.
